


Bagenders Random Slashy Interludes

by Bagenders



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:12:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bagenders/pseuds/Bagenders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the Bagenders stories where we basically wrote slash for our own gen fic :)</p><p>They will make no sense if you haven't read <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2809283/chapters/6304610">Bagenders</a>, but I'm uploading them separately as they deliberately had no plot impact on the rest of the series, and can be seen as an 'optional extra' to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Random Slashy Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> This fits between chapters 4 and 5 of Bagenders.

Aragorn was in heaven, if heaven had major stubble. Kissing Boromir was a terrible betrayal of Arwen, but right now, he didn't care. Arwen never kissed like this. No elf could ever kiss like this. He began to kiss Boromir's neck and undo his clothes at the same time. Boromir objected, "But what about the others?" 

"Legolas and Gimli will look after them, they're off looking for firewood." 

"Why don't we light a fire right here?" 

Aragorn needed no second invitation, and made a brief attempt at removing Boromir's chain mail with his teeth before giving up and removing it the normal way. He was vaguely aware of Boromir doing the same to him; his clothes were already worn and tattered - teeth marks weren't going to make any difference. Although he knew he was going to regret the big holes Boromir had just made in his thermal underwear. They were kissing and stroking every inch of each other's bodies, moaning with pleasure when Boromir whispered into his ear "Forth, Tyne, Dogger, westerly backing southerly, 6 increasing 7, moderate becoming good." 

Aragorn woke to the sounds of the shipping forecast on the radio alarm and the sight of Legolas staring at him in open-mouthed horror. Legolas said, "Are you quite alright?" 

Aragorn sat up and bunched the duvet around his waist. "I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" 

"Perhaps because two minutes ago you were thrashing about screaming "Boromir, give it to me, give it to me, big boy!" This was then followed by "Let me feel your citadel baby!" Not only are you having filthy dreams you have really unoriginal dirty talk." 

Aragorn had gone deep scarlet. "Was I?" 

"I think you know the answer to that. So, did you and Boromir actually get to that citadel?" 

"Look, nothing went on with Boromir." 

"I know nothing did. What I want to know is why you're having such filthy dreams about him right now." 

"I don't know. I mean, I never fancied Boromir. I still don't, I think." 

"Perhaps this is all subconscious. Repressed desire." 

"Are you calling me gay?" 

"On the basis of last night's evidence a jury would say yes. Five separate pieces of evidence in all last night, all of them involving Boromir before you ask." 

Aragorn made a mental note to get the sheets in to wash. 

"Look, there have been exceptions but I generally don't 'do' guys. And if I did, Boromir would NOT be one of them. Clear?" 

"Not as clear as last night was." 

Aragorn seethed, and headed towards the bathroom, duvet still around his waist. This was not helped by all the hobbits doing varying degrees of 'When Harry met Sally' 'aaaaaaaaaaah, ooh yeah' over their breakfast and sniggering. Any polite question was answered with 'Yes, yes, YES!' He finally headed towards the door and picked up his thermos, which had already been filled. 

"Thanks for making my coffee Frodo." 

"Um... I didn't make it. Sorry." 

Aragorn looked at his full thermos, then shrugged and headed out of the door. 

As the day wore on Aragorn grew more worried. He was having wild sexual fantasies about Boromir every time he let his attention wander. Like the one where he was back at the secret council in Rivendell and threw Boromir down and made mad passionate love right there and then. Or the complicated one taking place inside Moria, involving an interesting use of Sam's saucepan and Legolas' bow. He didn't even want to think about the one where they both dressed up as Nazgul... 

Aragorn was coming to the end of his tether when he arrived home. Even the hobbits could see it, and gave up on teasing him. He got himself a sandwich and went to bed early. Perhaps it was lack of sleep that was doing it... 

Boromir had him, slammed up against one of the posts of Blackpool Pier. Aragorn had lost all conscious thought, lost in the moment and the feeling of Boromir, but there was still a small part of him that had a nagging doubt as to why he was dressed as Britney Spears. "Aaah, Boromir..." He could feel himself going over the edge. 

He woke up. He could only see Legolas' eyes in the darkness, but he got the impression that his arms were folded. Legolas leaned forwards and turned on the light. "We are going to have to do something about this." 

"We?" 

Legolas blushed. "Well, if it means getting a decent night's sleep, and you are probably my best friend, and I'm an elf, it's not like its any big deal." 

"Yes, but then I'd be your husband." 

"We do already sleep in the same bedroom." 

"Do I get the staff travel pass?" 

"I think I'm doing enough for you already. And this is only going to be once." 

Aragorn attempted to look suggestive. "Immortality's a long time." 

"Which part of 'elves don't have a sex drive' do you not understand?" 

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to lighten the mood. I don't want things to get... weird." 

"Any weirder than knowing your sexual proclivities second hand?" 

Legolas moved over and sat on Aragorn's bed. Aragorn sat up and ran his hand through Legolas' hair. "You condition this don't you?" 

Legolas was looking uncomfortable. "What do you want me to do?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I've, um, well, never done this before." Aragorn looked deeply surprised. Legolas continued, "It's the no sex drive thing, and there's been no one I've wanted to spend the whole of my life with." 

It was Aragorn's turn to look worried. "You want to spend the rest of your life with me?" 

"Well, it looks like I'm stuck with you." 

"No need for the sarcasm." Aragorn kissed Legolas, and began pulling him into bed with him. 

"Aragorn?" 

"Uhuh." 

"I know the mechanics of this, but, um, which bits are supposed to be fun?" 

In the next room the 4 hobbits sat holding glasses to the wall had to try very hard not to burst out laughing. Merry and Pippin began making complex hand gestures not usually known to those below 4 feet tall. 

Time had passed: Aragorn and Legolas were lying together in bed. 

"Well?" 

"Well what?" 

"How do I compare to Arwen?" 

"Hey, I thought you weren't supposed to have a sex drive?" 

"Sex drive no, pride, yes." 

"I am saying nothing." 

"Not even a rating out of ten?" 

"Legolas, shut up." 

"Make me." 

Aragorn put his hand over Legolas' mouth, and Legolas struggled out of his grip into a play fight. On the other side of the wall, 4 hobbits still had their glasses pressed to the wall. Frodo looked at Sam in a confused fashion and mouthed 'no sex drive?'. 

Sam whispered back. "Well I reckons there's elves and there's elves." 

There was no sign of either Aragorn or Legolas at breakfast time. 

"I see they slept in." 

"Slept in what exactly?" 

"I don't really think there was much sleepin' involved." 

Aragorn and Legolas arrived together; acting as if nothing had happened and they had been kept up all night by road mending operations. 

"Aragorn, someone's made you up a thermos again." 

Something seemed to click and Aragorn looked very suspicious. "Who exactly made this up for me?" 

Frodo paused. "I don't actually know." 

"Any of you suddenly out of the goodness of your hearts making me thermoses of coffee?" 

Everyone shook their heads. Aragorn opened it up and sniffed it, then handed it over to Legolas who sniffed it, took a very small sip and then burst out laughing. "Good grief Aragorn you're made of some stern stuff." 

"What is it?" 

"Elven aphrodisiac. The only thing that can get an elf, um, into the mood, and we only serve it in very small cups." 

"Aragorn, who's the man?" Leered Merry while the others just sniggered. 

"The point is, who's been doing this?" 

The answer came in a gale of laughter from the sitting room. Gandalf. Aragorn would get his revenge, but against Gandalf it needed planning. Frodo came over, "I'll just pour that away, before it gets into the wrong hands." 

Legolas jumped up just a little too quickly, "Ah, no, no, I'll, um, just keep it. For safekeeping. Somewhere safe. And I'm having another shower." He disappeared upstairs with it. 

"Don't use all the hot water!" 

"I have no intention of doing any such thing!" was the slightly strangled yelled reply. 

A week later, and in the early afternoon Frodo was sat at the kitchen table reading 'Good Housekeeping'. Merry and Pippin came in. Frodo looked up "You got sacked then?" 

"No. Water main's burst so they closed t'supermarket." He walked over to Frodo. "Which means we have the whole afternoon free." 

That evening they were all sat in the sitting room watching TV, sharing out a bottle of red wine, when they heard the letterbox go. Legolas got up and retrieved the letter. 

"Its from Mrs. Wainthrop next door. What have you done now?" He began to read and his expression gradually became more and more shocked. 

"What is it?" said Aragorn suspiciously. 

"Mrs. Wainthrop was trying to have a Women's Institute meeting this afternoon. She says that while some of the younger and more impressionable members of the group thought that the performance given by the, and I quote, 'three short gentlemen', on the kitchen table, with both curtains and windows open, was highly amusing, Mrs. Green had one of her turns and had to have a lie down. When, in her lounge, the screams of what sounded like 'who's the hobbit?' were still audible that they would have to call an ambulance for the old dear." Merry, Pippin and Frodo were all looking at their feet. "It goes on, that at the point they thought you had decided to desist, sounds of copulation, screams of lust and the theme tune to the programme 'Thunderbirds' could be clearly heard from an upstairs window. This, though, was not the end. Mrs. Wainthrop would like to respectfully ask that this," Legolas held up a very small red and gold bra, "is not flung over her washing line again. She uses the words 'cavorting', 'acrobatics' and 'sinful' to describe what you were doing. Repeatedly." 

Aragorn couldn't help but butt in. "Is that a Princess Leia costume?" 

"No," they mumbled in unison. 

Gandalf cackled triumphantly and produced from the recesses of his chair a wig bearing a close resemblance to 2 cinnamon buns. 

Aragorn looked at Sam. "You don't... mind about this?" 

"Why should I mind? What they do in their own time's their own business. I can't say that I approve, but..." 

"But what about Frodo?" Asked Legolas. 

"What about Frodo?" 

"Well, I thought you two were, you know, an item." 

"WHAT?" chorused both Sam and Frodo together. 

"You're not?" 

"No!" 

"But what about the quest, you following him all the way into Mordor?" 

"He's my best friend. Did you expect me to leave him - oh, sorry, you DID leave him." 

"But, but surely?" 

"Surely what? Sex, sex, sex, that's all you think about isn't it? What is it with big folk today? You really think I'd go off and have 13 children behind his back?" 

"But what about when he gets drunk? And when he has his incidents?" 

"Everybody knows Frodo can't hold his drink," said Merry 

"And, well," Frodo looked ill at ease, "Sam is a very comforting person when I'm in that state." 

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying I'm fat?" 

"No! Comforting is not the same as fat." 

Aragorn still looked confused. "But Merry, Pippin you go after girls?" 

"Weel yeh, but, its like it would be nice to eat in a posh restaurant every night but ye'll settle for fish and chips." 

The punch from Merry was impressive and knocked Pippin to the floor, where Merry kept pummelling him. "You said you loved me you bastard!" Frodo and Sam managed to pull Merry off, Frodo making comments about the wine stains on the carpet, and hold him down. 

"Look, I didnae mean it like that." 

"What did tha mean it like?" 

"Ah'm sorry, Merry ah've stuck by ye for 6000 years, what more d'ye want?" 

Merry thought for a moment. "Well that thing wi't'doodah. Y'know." 

"That? Again? I'm only hobbit you know, remember what happened last time?" 

Merry blushed and looked at the floor. 

Frodo was feeling left out. "No one had any doubts about me?" 

"What, you? I've known you all my life, I've known you were gay before I knew there was a word for it," said Sam. 

Frodo started to say something and then gave up. He took a long drink out of his glass, then stopped and looked at it. "Does this taste odd to anyone else?" 

They all looked at their glasses, then at Gandalf. They knew they should have been suspicious but it had been a long day at work, so it hadn't clicked when Gandalf had refused alcohol. He was shaking with repressed laughter. Sam looked at his glass again and mumbled "Oh, no."


	2. Random Slashy Interlude II: Peregrin Took Strikes Back!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fits between chapters 8 and 9 of Bagenders. 
> 
> Warning: characters do things they wouldn't normally do while under the influence of elven aphrodisiac - if this makes you uncomfortable, this is not for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since our last Slashy Interlude featured the Shipping Forecast we would like to dedicate this one to Sea Area Finisterre (once a great big lump of sea north west of Spain, now but a memory), which was replaced, on 4th February, by Sea Area FitzRoy. Finisterre - this one's for you!   
> Story notes: You asked for more Aragorn/Legolas, we oblige. Don't say we don't listen to our fans and don't blame us when you say those bits are contrived - we both prefer Hobbits anyway.

"What're you watching this crap for?" 

"There's nowt else on." 

"Yeah, but even Channel 5 soft porn's better than watching 'The Faculty'." 

"Yeah, but it's 'Hot FBI Babes' and Gandalf's already seen it four times and he gets annoyed w'the main character an' throws things at the screen whenever she comes on." 

Frodo looked over at Gandalf who made an obscene hand gesture and sniggered. 

"Oh, yeah, I know he doesn't like movies with that in it." 

Merry pointed at the screen. "'Ere, that short guy dunt half look like you." 

Frodo looked at the TV and then made a face. "Doesn't look anything like me." 

"Naw, he's sooo much cuter than you are," said Pippin. 

"Shut up, Pippin." 

Aragorn wandered in and settled down next to Legolas on the other sofa, in fact, snuggled up to would probably be a better description. 

"Aragorn...? What are you doing? You haven't been on the, um... again have you?" 

"No, it's just that since we are technically married, I thought we should spend a little quality time together." 

"And by quality time you mean?" 

"I'm not that shallow, since when was my name Pippin?" 

Pippin was momentarily distracted by the mention of his name and faced Aragorn for long enough for Frodo catch him a whanging blow to the side of the head. The argument about whether or not Frodo was cuter than the short geeky guy in 'The Faculty' was continuing on the other sofa with much force and also with fists. 

Aragorn stretched his arms upwards and brought one of them down round Legolas' shoulder. 

"Aragorn, you've been alive for over 6000 years. In that time have you learned nothing about romance, seduction or even subtlety?" 

"Sorry," said Aragorn as he slid his arm round Legolas' waist and leaned his head on Legolas' shoulder. "Better?" 

"You're just using me as an Arwen substitute." 

"If I was using you as an Arwen substitute I'd be trying to get you to swear at me in Elvish and talk you into giving me back my stuff." 

"Really?" 

"Yes, really." Aragorn started nuzzling his face against the side of Legolas' neck. 

"Ah, no, not with stubble, stoppit, stoppit." Legolas collapsed into fits of the giggles, which only encouraged Aragorn to keep on going. 

The Hobbits stopped mid-fight and stared; Frodo with one hand round Pippin's neck and the other pulled back to punch him in the face while Merry was attempting to simultaneously pull Frodo's hair and kick Pippin in the groin. 

It was at this moment that Sam decided to come in from weeding the garden. The sight that confronted him was that of a tableau of scrapping Hobbits and Aragorn apparently sucking Legolas' neck, and Legolas apparently enjoying it. 

"Um... I'll just, ah, go back into the garden and, um, prune something." 

***** 

A week later Aragorn still hadn't given up on Legolas. Legolas had been presented with flowers, chocolates, theatre tickets, ballet tickets and, in desperation, alcohol. 

"Look, I said no." 

"Can't I even kiss you?" 

"No, I'll get beard rash." 

"You didn't mind last time." 

Legolas tone turned vicious. "No, just no." 

Aragorn looked completely heartbroken and Legolas felt like he'd just kicked a puppy, never mind that he'd seen this person run through at least 6 dozen Orcs. Legolas decided to go for the direct approach and hugged Aragorn in what he hoped was a comforting and manly way. However, Legolas wasn't very good at manly and ended up with his nose buried in Aragorn's hair. Being and Elf and therefore dirt-repellent, he had expected this to be a somewhat unpleasant experience as Aragorn was not a huge fan of baths, but his he found the aroma of manly musk with a hint of squirrel strangely alluring. At least his hindbrain did, his higher thought centres were trying to bury this thought and dance on its grave, but the Hormones were winning. Legolas realised that he was nuzzling into Aragorn's neck through his long hair and he was making small groaning noises and, again, his higher brain centres fought for control. This time they won and he pulled back from Aragorn, but all that this meant was that Aragorn was free to kiss him. And he did. 

Luckily for Legolas, or at least the less hormonally driven parts of him, Sam walked in. Aragorn made a mental note that next time he decided to try and seduce Legolas he would do it somewhere more private than in the kitchen. 

"Why does everyone in this house have an urge to do this kind of thing? And in public too." Sam looked slightly annoyed. 

***** 

Dinner the next night had an Atmosphere. Merry and Pippin had stopped speaking to each other. The reason for this as soon as Pippin started speaking. 

"You know that Magenta at work has sooo got the hots for me?" 

Merry muttered under his breath. "Magenta? Her name's bloody Mavis Enderby." 

"Magenta, Mavis whatever, she fancies the pants off me. She's heard the stories and wants some hot Pippin lovin' for herself." 

Merry ran out of the kitchen and down the other end of the garden and hid behind the shed. Frodo went out to make sure he was alright and found Merry hugging his knees and snivelling. Frodo put his arms around him, which caused Merry to move on to full blown sobs, dampening the front of Frodo's nice clean shirt. 

"Why does he do this to me?" 

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself, you mean. You've known him all his life, he's been a complete slut ever since he found out there was more than one use for the contents of his trousers and he's cheated on you more times than I've been in mental institutions, even if some of the times he invited you along." 

"But I love him!" 

"Why?" 

"I can?t help it!" 

"There is more to life than Pippin you know." 

"Doesn't feel like it." 

"You need some cheering up." 

"Can't be cheered up." Frodo kissed Merry. "Well, maybe if you try very hard you could." 

***** 

The next morning there seemed to be an invisible thread between Frodo and Merry, an invisible thread which appeared to be the temperature of molten lava as they both seemed to get very hot when they got within about a foot and a half of each other. 

When they were all sat at the table eating breakfast Sam felt something brush against his leg. Something hairy and the brushing definitely felt deliberate. In fact it was more of an up and down sliding. He gave Frodo a sidelong glance, but as Frodo appeared to be staring aimlessly out the window while sipping his tea he turned his gaze to Merry and kicked him in the shins. There was a gurgle and he guessed from the way Frodo suddenly seemed to reconnect with the same reality as everyone else that the sliding had not so much stopped as relocated itself. 

Early that evening the Fellowship was gathered watching 'The Weakest Link as usual, or, in the case of two of its members, trying to watch TV - Aragorn may have been curled around Legolas in an excessively friendly way, but the TV was getting at least 90% of his attention. Merry and Frodo were suffering from a severe case of the wandering hands, but luckily for everyone else, they were only wandering over each other. Eventually they gave into temptation and attempted to reach second base, or possibly to pass it, but Legolas decided to put a stop to it. 

"Are you two going to tell us what's going on? Overnight you've gone from being reasonably normal Hobbits to acting like you're in the kind of movies Gandalf likes." 

Gandalf momentarily looked up. "No they're not." 

"Well, no, they're lacking in the 'enormous bosoms' department, and the ones he likes tend to be six foot tall and skinny as opposed to four foot and overweight," said Aragorn. 

"Yes, but this doesn't answer the question as to what's going on." 

Merry and Frodo looked at each other in embarrassed silence, even though their hands still appeared to be doing their own thing. 

"Nothing. We're just showing a bit of friendly affection for each other." 

"Friendly like you and Sam in Mordor?" asked Pippin. 

Sam dignified this with the only suitable answer: he punched Pippin very, very hard. 

"Ow, ok, ok, nothin' went on in Mordor, but friendly affection doesnae usually put that much strain on your troosers if you know what I mean." 

Frodo and Merry shifted slightly, which would in itself have been a bit suspicious, even more so when they moaned a little when they did. 

"Right, tell me what's going on," said Aragorn, who, from his experience in dealing with small children knew exactly when to use threats, "Or I'll make you watch the entirety of 'Flipper'. Twice." 

Merry and Frodo gave in. "Merry was upset, so we took some of the elven aphrodisiac. Only half a shot glass each, though." 

Gandalf began cackling evilly. 

"A whole half shot each?" asked Legolas 

The two Hobbits nodded 

"And you didn't think to check what effect this had on Hobbit physiology?" 

The two Hobbits shook their heads. 

"Well, all I can say is that now would be a good time to buy shares in the company that makes KY jelly." 

Frodo and Merry exchanged horrified glances "What exactly does it do to Hobbit physiology?" asked Frodo. 

"Well, much the same as what it does to Elves - it makes you very much in the mood - except that with Hobbits it lasts for about a week." 

"You mean I have to sleep in the same room as two permanently turned on Hobbits, whilst I've got a cold, for a week?" 

"Sorry. And what does having a cold have to do with this?" 

"Can me and Pippin sleep in your room for a few days?" 

"No," answered Aragorn and Legolas simultaneously. A little too quickly. Legolas filled in "You're all germy." 

"But it's going to be terrible," said Sam, while Merry and Frodo, as if to prove a point, started snogging again. "Could you two maybe do that somewhere else?" 

Merry and Frodo seemed relieved and attempted to leave the room sideways so that they neither had to let go of one another, nor stop kissing. 

Gandalf was a wise old wizard and so turned the volume on the TV all the way up. There was a cry of 'Nightshift!' from upstairs, but this was followed up by a somewhat more rhythmical noise. There was the sound of footsteps on the landing, a door opening and a scream. A few moments later Gimli appeared in the sitting room doorway, wearing a Noel Coward dressing gown over his paisley pyjamas and his Dwarf helmet and suffering from 'bed-beard'. 

"I decided to get up early." 

***** 

The next evening Legolas was not in a good frame of mind. He had been treated to the sound of Frodo and Merry shagging before breakfast in their bedroom, after breakfast in the cupboard under the stairs and on arriving home only seconds before Merry being bowled over by the overenthusiastic Hobbit as he attempted to jump Frodo in the quickest time possible. He decided to try and get to the shower before certain randy Hobbits got any ideas. 

At the top of the stairs he was greeted by the sound of music coming from his bedroom. 

_"Je t'aime, oiu, je t'aime"_

He also thought he could smell musk scented candles. 

"Aragorn?" he called softly through the door, hardly daring to open it. 

"Yes?" said Aragorn, stripped to his underwear (thankfully not the Captain Scarlet ones) and reading a book on ancient Greek statuary. 

Legolas blew out the candles, turned off the music and turned the lights back on. 

"If this is your attempt at seduction, I really wonder how you and Arwen ever managed to have children, and no, please don't tell me." 

"Seduction? No, not me, I just wanted to read a book in my underwear." 

Throughout the rest of the evening Legolas was plagued by the constant sight of rampantly groping Hobbits, which was giving his hindbrain the advantage and this was not helped by the fact that the even his higher consciousness was admitting that Aragorn wearing nothing but his underwear was aesthetically pleasing, from a purely artistic point of view you understand. 

Legolas decided he needed some fresh air and some time away from the copulating Hobbits, so decided to go out into the garden. Silently, Aragorn followed him. Legolas turned his face up towards the sky to look at the stars, but felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. He looked along the arm; it belonged to Aragorn. 

"I just came out to look at the stars. Nothing else." 

"I don't need to look at the stars, I can look into your eyes." 

"Aragorn, would you just stop the corny, Mills and Boon dialogue." 

"Why don't I just stop talking altogether?" Aragorn kissed him. 

Legolas' higher brain centre fused and melted together into one big messy lump and his hindbrain took over. He forgot entirely to offer any resistance when Aragorn tried to pull him to the ground. 

"Aragorn... quick, Mrs Wainthrop, the shed!" 

Aragorn half stood and lifted Legolas, trying to carry him towards the shed while still kissing him. Half way there they fell over. 

"Fuck Mrs Wainthrop," whispered Aragorn. 

"Actually, I was rather hoping you'd fuck me..." 

"Thought you'd never ask." 

***** 

At 2am, Pippin was still sat in the kitchen, hunched over a mug of hot chocolate, scheming. It was not going well with Mavis at work; just that afternoon she had rejected his advances quite forcefully by hitting him with a four-pack of baked beans in the storeroom (the storeroom - one of the most painful places to be hit). Pippin rubbed the bruise thoughtfully; he was the self-proclaimed Don Juan of the Fellowship and while the others were getting laid, he was not. Who knows if it was the Palantir working its deadly influence on him, but the plan formed, and evil was the plan, and evil was its execution. 

***** 

The next morning Sam was not feeling well, not helped by the fact that due to the activities of Frodo and Merry he'd slept on the landing. He could have slept on the sofa, but Gandalf was awake and perusing his video collection so it would merely have been the difference between live action and recorded. Pippin attempting to go somewhere at 2 am in the morning and standing on Sam's head had not helped the matter. He was sat at the breakfast table nursing a soluble aspirin, with various other cures for being under the weather that had been suggested by the rest of the Fellowship set out in front of him. They probably all interacted in horribly fatal ways, but he was immortal and was wishing he wasn't. He was not thinking terribly clearly as well (his brain had been replaced with something resembling molten marshmallow), so had even taken Frodo up on his offer of 'why don't you take some of the anti-psychotic medication I get? It's not like it can do any harm.' The fact that this statement was in the same league as 'it's unsinkable', and 'nuclear power is completely safe' seemed to bypass him. Pippin's sudden and suspicious interest in his health and well-being had also not triggered the alarm bells it should have done - Pippin had appointed himself officer in charge of Sam's medication. The large glass of something green and frothy, made to one of Pippin's own recipes was possibly the most worrying. 

The others had all gone to work, but Frodo had stopped Sam from going as well. The strange, spaced out expression and the swaying were worrying him. Frodo in an attempt to, ahem, distract himself whilst Merry was at work was doing speed cleaning, scrubbing floors with freezing water, jogging round the garden a few times and when all else failed he was having cold showers. He had no idea how Merry was faring at work, but he hoped for Merry's sake he wasn't handling the baguettes today. 

"Sam, wouldn't you be better in bed?" 

Sam sat up and started twitching slightly. "Bed?" he repeated. 

"What did Pippin give you? Your pupils have completely dilated." Frodo leaned over Sam to check whether or not Sam had a temperature. There was no fever, but Sam was not reacting to him. He waved a hand in front of Sam's face. Sam snapped out of the morning's inactivity by pushing Frodo down to the floor and beginning to kiss him wildly. Frodo tried to get Sam to let go of him but Sam was both bigger and stronger than he was, and well, Frodo's heart wasn't really in it. Other parts of him were deeply interested in this. 

"Sam? Are you alright?" Frodo managed. He had known Sam for a very long time and while this was not altogether unwelcome it was deeply unexpected. 

"Fine, never felt better. Bed?" 

Frodo's brain was struggling for control. "No, no, you'll really regret this lataaaaaaaaaahhhh." Sam had settled the argument decisively. "Dontstop, Dontstop, Dontstop!" Sam, as the father of enough children for a couple of rugby teams, a couple of netball teams and a mixed hockey team, may have been unfamiliar with the geography but was well versed in the technique. 

Gimli had learned his lesson and just turned over and put his earplugs in as he heard Gandalf turn the volume up to maximum again. 

***** 

Pippin arrived home that evening, fully expecting to reap the rewards of what he had given to Sam that morning. However, Sam was nowhere to be found. He tried to be extra casual as he asked Aragorn whether or not Sam was home from work. 

Aragorn didn't even bother to look up from his copy of 'Forestry Monthly - Sequoia edition'. "He never went to work, stayed at home because he was ill." 

Pippin paled. "Do you know where he is then?" 

"No idea. Probably in bed. He looked terrible when I left this morning." 

Had Pippin actually possessed a conscience he might have felt a little guilty about this, but all he felt was fear at getting caught and decided to make himself scarce. He headed out to the shed, passing Legolas coming in from work. 

"Where's he going?" 

"Don't know. Perhaps he's started archiving some of his dirty magazine collection out there." 

"Speaking of magazines, are you reading 'Forestry Monthly' again?" 

"I only read it for the articles!" 

Legolas sat down. "Aragorn, about what happened..." 

Aragorn put down the magazine carefully. "You are going to find some sort of excuse as to why that was an aberration, elves don't have a sex drive and it'll never happened again?" 

"Um, no actually I was wondering whether this time we could try something involving fewer rose thorns and more feathers..." 

It was a true pity there was no-one around with a camera to capture Aragorn's expression, but it was only there for a moment before Aragorn and Legolas gave in to the inevitable and grabbed each other... 

The next morning Sam woke up feeling much better, but a little... odd. He was warmer than usual, but Frodo being wrapped round him explained this. So Frodo had had another one of his incidents, that wasn't unusual, but there was something else wrong. Oh. Oh dear. Neither of them were wearing any clothes. At all. There was something else wrong; he didn't have time to place it because at that moment Frodo woke up. 

"Sam? Whas' wrong? Oh." 

"Oh indeed. What happened?" 

"Um...lots. Well, first..." 

"Stop, no, I don't need details, but I just need to know - we had sex didn't we?" 

"Um. Yes. Repeatedly. Sorry." 

"You knew I was under the influence of something!" 

"Yes, but if it hadn't escaped your attention so am I! And you're bigger than me and quite persuasive! And I would like to draw your attention to the fact that you haven't let go of me!" 

Sam went quiet. "Probably residual effects." 

"Look, Sam, I'm sorry. Neither of us were really ourselves, let just forget about it? Please?" 

Sam nodded, though a little doubtfully, and they disentangled themselves. 

"Whas' goin' on?" Merry stuck his head out from the other end of the duvet. 

"Please tell me I didn't..." 

"Don't worry, you didn't. You just asked to watch." 

"I'm going to have nightmares about that for weeks." 

"Er, Sam? How residual are those effects?" 

"Not very." 

"In that case, this would be a really good time to skip the queue for the bathroom. And don't come back for about 20 minutes..." the last comment was squeaked as Merry moved back up the bed. 

When they eventually came downstairs Pippin was already at the breakfast table looking quite smug. He had put two and two together and had worked out what must have gone on between Sam and Frodo and was looking forward to seeing the acute social embarrassment that would ensue. However, he was disappointed. They were acting fairly normally, well as normal as either of them ever got, and only slightly avoiding physical contact with each other. Pippin was wondering why he had even wanted Sam as a sex slave, and was also worried about possible recriminations. These worries proved to be well founded. 

***** 

Pippin, by Friday evening was starting to think that he'd got away with it, and that the Fellowship were blaming Sam's little 'indiscretion' on an adverse reaction to buttercup syrup. However, they had just been biding their time. They were agreed that doing something as completely despicable as drugging someone to be used as a sex toy needed a suitable punishment, which needed preparation, thought and time. The cupboard under the stairs had been cleaned out, and a strong lock fitted. Pippin was taken completely unawares when, while watching 'Father Ted' he was forcibly tied into Frodo's spare straitjacket, had two drops of the elven aphrodisiac forced down his throat, was gagged and then shoved and locked into the cupboard under the stairs. The Fellowship slept with earplugs in to try and ignore the howls from Pippin, unable in the straitjacket even to have recourse to Mrs. Palm and her five lovely daughters to relieve his suffering.


	3. Random Slashy Interlude III: Return of the Brandybuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fits between chapters 14 and 15 of Bagenders.
> 
> Warning for readers of slash: Het content. Warning for readers of het: slash content. Warning for readers of other fandoms: Hobbit content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Many of the things Merry and Frodo get up to in Manchester will get you a smack in the mouth if not worse, that is why this is a work of fiction.

“I think that its time we talked about something.” 

“Ok. Ummmm. Wasn’t the siege of Acre fun?” Aragorn looked enthusiastic, as he always did before he started on one of his military anecdotes. 

“No, I meant we need to talk about us. And what the hell do you mean, ‘fun’? Sieges aren’t supposed to be fun!” 

“They are if you’re on the outside!” 

“No they are not. You are trying to get me off the subject. This needs to be talked about.” 

“Alright. Umm. I think you are a really quite nice elf.” 

“ ‘Quite nice’. I merit a ‘quite nice’” Legolas had his arms folded. 

“Umm. Very nice?” 

“Nicer than Arwen?” 

“Yeeeeees. But that’s not hard. Pippin’s nicer than Arwen.” Aragorn realised immediately he’d said the wrong thing. 

“Ah. So back to kinky hobbit loving again are we? Just exactly how devoted were you to Frodo on the quest? And who was it who suggested we risk our lives running after, ooh yes I remember now, Merry and Pippin? Hunt some orc, my arse, hunt some hobbit more like.” 

“No, no, I didn’t mean that. I meant that you’re lots nicer than Arwen because the average orc on a good day is nicer than Arwen.” 

“Ah. The torrent of praise goes on. I am nicer than an orc, and Pippin. Forgive me if I do not melt at your feet. Why don’t you write me a sonnet, Shakespeare bloody well appreciated me!” 

Aragorn was trying to oblige. “Ummm. There was a young elf called Legolas, 

Who had the most wonderful…” 

“SONNET! You uncultured idiot, not a dirty limerick!” Legolas turned round and crossed his arms, deliberately ignoring Aragorn. He did relent slightly after a few minutes. “Do you really think I have a wonderful…” 

“Oh yes. And lots of other wonderful things as well. I’m just not very good at talking about it.” 

Legolas relented. He turned round to see Aragorn smiling in a hopeful, yet also manic, worried fashion. 

“We do need to talk. You been split up from Arwen for more than a century, but you’re still not over her.” 

“Yes I am. She took the children, remember? Well, the children’s mortal remains. ” 

“Why do you yell out her name in your sleep?” 

“Those are nightmares, and really horrible ones as well. It’s not like I’m having … those kind of dreams about her.” 

Legolas couldn’t resist the target. “Yes, we all know you only have those kind of dreams about Boromir.” 

Aragorn looked sulky. “’Snot my fault. I was drugged.” 

“Yes, yes I know. What are the nightmares about?” 

“You’ll laugh.” 

“No I won’t” 

Aragorn looked doubtful, but told him anyway. “I’m in Harvey Nichols and I’m being chased by hundreds of seven foot tall cheese straws that all look like Arwen. And when we get to the lingerie section I’m trapped, and I can’t get out, and then I wake up.” 

“If they let you into Harvey Nicks it must be a dream. Sorry, alright, the nightmares aren’t nice, but don’t you see? It’s all subconscious. If you’re still dreaming about her, you’re still thinking about her. I don’t know what Freud would have to say about the phallic symbolism of a cheese straw, but he had more one track mind than yours.” 

“Of course I’m still thinking about her. We were married for a few millennia, I’m not about to forget about her overnight.” 

Legolas knew it was time for action, but there was no way he was taking Aragorn to couple counsellor, it would just be too embarrassing. But the situation definitely required action and not the kind of action Aragorn would suggest, that had been the answer to everything for far too long. 

******** 

“Mr Gamgee?” 

Sam looked down from the ladder he was using to trim the top of the hedge in Mrs Arbuthnot’s garden. 

“Yes?” 

Mrs Arbuthnot went into stage whisper “I thought you ought to know that next door are getting Ground Force in tomorrow.” 

Sam froze. “Mr Gamgee, are you alright?” 

“Ground Force?” 

“Yes, you know, with Alan Titchmarsh.” 

That hadn’t been who Sam had been thinking about, but the whole concept of … her being next door. He let go of the ladder. Luckily, due to Sam’s gardening expertise there was something soft and yielding for him to land in: the compost heap. 

The wheels of his mind were turning faster than a hamster wheel turned by a hamster on too many performance enhancing drugs. 

//weacheeorrrrghooeewrghehahahahahahahahahahahahweeeeeeorghurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrwrororghurrrrrrrrrrghurrrrrrrr…Charlie! No, wait, get a grip on yourself. You have to look smart. No, not too smart, or else she won’t think you’re a proper gardener. Lush and verdant, think lush and verdant. How on earth do you look lush and verdant? Damn, going to have to ask Pippin how to talk to women. Second thoughts, no, will ask Frodo, he’s in the WI and hasn’t been assaulted by anyone female. Except Rose of course…// 

“Mr Gamgee? Do you need me to call an ambulance? You’re looking very poorly…” 

It was at this point that Sam realised that he was still lying on the compost heap and beginning to sink into it slowly. 

***** 

“Merry, don’t you think it’s time you came out of the central heating cupboard.” Frodo was feeling a little uneasy about the role reversal issues involved in this; he wasn’t used to seeing a crisis from this side of a door. 

“No! Pippin doesn’t love me because he only likes girls.” Merry could be heard sniffing and then bursting into tears again. 

“No, Pippin doesn’t love you because he’s deeply in love with himself and there isn’t room for anyone else. Please come out of the cupboard.” 

The door opened a bit and Merry stuck his head out at the same time as Legolas walked out of his bedroom. 

“Coming out of the closet again, Merry? I thought the whole incident with Lord Alfred Douglas made it abundantly clear which team you batted for.” 

Merry withdrew back into the central heating cupboard. “Why did you have to bring that up? I thought we agreed never to mention it ever again?” He started sniffling again and Frodo, for lack of any better ideas tried to push another tissue under the door. 

“You can’t stay in there all weekend, we’ve got plans remember? The whole weekend ahead of us…” 

“Plans?” Asked Legolas. 

“No plans, no plans whatsoever that you would be interested in. Sod off.” 

But Legolas wasn’t willing to let the matter drop yet, so Frodo decided to get into the cupboard with Merry as a means of escape. However, Merry took this entirely the wrong way. 

“Mmmph, not now, Merry, this is neither the time nor the place. Eeeouwh! I said no, look I’ve got a regulator gasket stuck in my back.” 

“Ok, later then. You did get round to washing the costumes, didn’t you?” 

****** 

Later that night, in a casualty department in Manchester: 

“Again? This is the third one this evening.” 

“Third what?” 

“Really short drag queen in near-drowning incident.” 

“Maybe there’s some kind of theme night on in the village.” 

“What? All acts under five feet tall?” 

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask them, the other two are probably in a better state to answer questions by now.” 

“Whit d’ye mean ‘the ither two’?” A very small, very cross, very wet, and because it was a canal he had fallen into, not terribly pleasant smelling Pussy Galore sat up and tried to be threatening at the doctor. 

“Ah, obviously not a theme night then. Could someone either restrain or sedate this one and I’ll go talk to the others.” 

“Oh, I like that, ‘someone restrain or sedate him’. I wonder who that someone is going to be?” 

****** 

“Go on, enlighten me. Is it National Drown a Short Arse Drag Queen Day and no one’s told me?” 

Merry and Frodo looked hurt. “Look, we told you, we fell in.” 

“Bloody stupid place to put a canal,” said Merry, with feeling. 

Both of them neglected to mention that the reason they fell in was because they had stepped out for a breath of fresh air, started kissing and lost track of where the canal was. 

Up to that point their evening had been going well. Estella and Lobelia (“the North’s biggest, smallest drag act!”), had given a highly successful first performance of their new Abba act; even though Abba was done to death, Estella and Lobelia liked to think they did it particularly well. 

The doctor looked at the two very small drag queens, still wearing their sequined dresses (no one had been able to persuade either of them to take them off). They didn’t seem to be that drunk, but perhaps their little swim had sobered them up. It wasn’t like this was an unusual sight on a Friday evening. The doctor thought about this again, no, people falling in the canal was normal and one wet and confused drag queen provided the occasional bit of entertainment for the department, but three in one night was definitely not normal by anyone’s definition. If it was, then it wasn’t anyone he ever had, or ever wanted to meet. 

***** 

“Do you think we should have intervened?” asked Aragorn. 

“No, it was Pippin, he was fighting. He can look after himself and some of those women were pretty big, did you really want to get pulled into that?” 

“Well…no. But what if they managed to kill him, or do him some serious damage?” 

“He’s immortal, all it’ll do is really annoy him.” 

Aragorn and Legolas were sitting on bar stools in a pub as far away as possible from where they had seen Pippin getting into the fight. There was a small collection of glasses in front of them, split evenly between pint glasses and those containing paper umbrellas and some suspicious lumps which were possibly some kind of cherry. Legolas was starting to lean towards Aragorn a bit, but not enough to cause too much comment even in a pub that didn’t have a name like the Blue Parrot. 

“But immortal Elves can get killed, so what if immortal Hobbits can too?” 

“He’s been around Gandalf far too long, he’s learned things.” 

“Yeah…remember when they beheaded him?” 

The barman looked up from polishing a glass, memorised the two men having the strange conversation in case their faces ever turned up on ‘Crimewatch’ and went back to very diligently pretending to not pay any attention whatsoever. 

“Well, if you remember right, it wasn’t a proper beheading. I’ve never seen such an incompetent executioner.” 

“Imagine beheading the priest who’s there to give the last rites…” 

The barman decided it was really time for his break. 

“But it would have been interesting to watch, I mean his brain has so little to with his body that he probably would have run round and round like a chicken until the blood supply ran out.” 

The barman decided he’d never really been cut out for pulling pints. Maybe he should apply for something a little safer, on an oil rig or in a bomb disposal squad, for example. 

***** 

Pippin sat back and fondled one of his false breasts absentmindedly. He had no idea how he’d actually acquired them, or any other part of the Pussy Galore costume for that matter, but he felt that this was something he could get used to. The Pussy Galore costume that is, not being in casualty, although given his past record of what happened to him on a Friday night, maybe get used to casualty departments was a good idea too. 

However, there was the question of the other two short drag queens. His curiosity, and other things, were awakened by this concept. It could be an interesting way to round off the evening… 

Pippin got up and started squelching round the casualty department in search of the other two diminutive drag queens. He wasn’t sure where to begin looking, but decided that logically they should be behind one of the many curtains, it was just a matter of finding out which one. 

He pulled back one of the curtains at random. “Hey! How’d ye get that stuck in there pal?” 

It was only Pippin’s quick reflexes that saved him from the hurled abuse and bedpans. He decided to try a more subtle approach, next time he would look under the curtains instead of pulling them back. You never knew when you might get the chance to look up someone’s skirt at the same time. 

Three curtains along, Pippin was met with what he was sure was the skirt he was looking for. It was purple and sequined and he shuffled some more of himself under the curtain to get a better look at the face attached to the skirt. This, however, was not what Pippin had been looking for. 

“Merry! Frodo! Whit the hell are youse doin’ here?” 

“What the sod’s tha doin ere…Pushy?” This last comment was added in a very bad Sean Connery accent, in fact, even worse than Sean Connery’s actual accent (only a Scotsman could get away with a Scottish accent that unconvincing). 

“And what’re you doing here wi’ him?” 

“What do you mean, ‘with him’, it was you that started the argument.” 

“It was you that… brought him into it and started ignoring me, and it was you in the dog collar and leash!” 

“I thought you liked the dog collar and leash, they were your idea.” At this point Merry burst into tears again, although thankfully all of his mascara had washed off in the canal and so it couldn’t make tracks down his face.” 

Frodo jumped into the argument to defend Merry. “This is all your fault, Peregrin! If you’d treated him like he deserved to be treated instead of going off with all those other men, women…things, none of this would have happened!” 

“Whit d’ye mean, ‘my fault’ ye little house breakin’ hoor! Ye’ll sleep wi’ anythin’ than comes through the door.” 

“What about you? There are hard working prostitutes who get through less men a night than you!” 

Merry held his hands up in an attempt to get the others to stop, the well known gesture that precedes all drunken fights. Pippin tried to push him out of the way so he could get a better shot at punching Frodo for that last comment, but that was what finally pushed Merry’s tolerance of Pippin’s behaviour too far and he lunged at him. 

“Just leave it, he’s not worth it!” cried Frodo, grabbing hold of Merry’s arm as he brought it round to punch Pippin. 

By now the entire casualty department, doctors, nurses, receptionists, cleaners, patients and relatives had gathered round to watch the fight. It wasn’t every day you saw three short men in drag fighting and they’d even given up trying to be subtle, it wasn’t as if they would have noticed anyone else at this point anyway. 

Someone briefly considered called security, but abandoned the thought as they wanted to know what happened, and even if they had it wouldn’t have done any good because the security guards were already there watching the fight with everyone else. The medical staff had decided that however long it would take them to patch up the three drag queens at the end of the fight would definitely be worth the entertainment gained from watching it. 

***** 

“So, who was that you brought home last night?” Gimli asked Sam over breakfast the next morning. 

“No one.” Sam tried to hide behind the cornflake packet. “More tea?” 

“It looked like a woman to me.” 

Sam, knowing exactly what Frodo was doing that weekend, could think of several answers, but decided to keep things simple for Gimli’s sake. “It wasn’t. There wasn’t anyone in the house last night except you, me and Gandalf.” 

“Och and the fact that you nailed Gandalf’s chair to the floor, nailed the sitting room door shut and pushed the welsh dresser in front of it to make it look like we haven’t got a sitting room, does that have anything to do with the girl you brought home last night?” 

Sam blushed and tried to will the floor to swallow him. “It was just a friend from work who came round to look at a few of my antique gardening books.” 

“A friend with unrestrained bosoms?” 

Sam had got up from the breakfast table and was busying himself around the kitchen filling a tray. “I can be friends with who I want to be friends with.” 

“Och I’m sure ye can.” 

“Anyway, I’m going. I’m having second breakfast in my room. Alone.” 

“Alright, I believe you, just don’t spill any of that honey and yoghurt on your ‘antique gardening books’.” Only those who have heard a dwarf attempting to put on a suggestive voice will know exactly how far one sentence can make a person’s skin crawl, so our readers should for once be glad that we have never tried to actually get this shown on tv. 

Sam went for the sensible option and ignored this comment and went upstairs with his ‘second breakfast’, which also inexplicably contained a single red rose in a vase. 

***** 

Aragorn and Legolas sat cross-legged on the double bed in their hotel room, a tray of breakfast marking the boundaries between each other’s territory. 

“Do you want…sugar, in your coffee?” 

“Aragorn, how long have we been living together? You know I don’t take sugar in my coffee, I don’t even drink coffee, it’s tea with lemon.” 

Aragorn looked like he was going to start crying like a girl and Legolas really couldn’t deal with that now. He tried to make vaguely soothing noises, if only to stop Aragorn from making the high pitched wailing noises again because they went right through his head and made his hangover so much worse. 

“But you know I love you and I don’t love Arwen any more and you’re really really nice and I’m not really over her and I’m so so sorry and I really like you and I should be over her because you’re so much nicer and much better in bed. And, and, on you pointy ears look cute, but on her they’re just stupid.” 

Legolas paused. This was probably about as close as Aragorn was ever going to get to ‘shall I compare thee to a summer’s day’. Legolas realised that he probably should be grateful and that asking for anything more coherent than this would be a bad idea. 

“Aragorn. I like you. A lot. You’re the only person who I’ve ever liked enough to bother having the…messy…parts of a relationship with. But, I get the feeling that I’m a replacement.” 

“You’re not a replacement for Arwen! If I was trying to replace her I’d ask you shout and swear at me and hit me over the head with heavy cast iron frying pans. And you definitely never ignored me when I was trying to have sex with you.” 

Legolas paused again. He couldn’t quite figure out how anyone could ignore Aragorn when he was trying to shag them. There was the beard for one thing. And the heavy breathing could really put you off even the most interesting magazine article. 

“Aragorn…why did you ever start going out with Arwen in the first place.” 

“Well, you know how it is, I was young and naïve and she made me sign this legally binding contract which said she could eat my liver and both my kidneys if we didn’t get married before I was 100. And every time I saw Eowyn I kept getting this weird mental image of Arwen coming towards me with a great big knife and fork and it was so off-putting.” 

Legolas took back all his earlier wishes to spend the rest of his life with elves. No matter how strange the rest of the Fellowship were, none of them had ever tried to eat his internal organs. 

“Ok, Aragorn, I think we can make this work.” 

Aragorn looked so happy that any policeman meeting him in the street would have dragged him down the station for random drug testing. 

“You really mean it?” 

“I only lie to Gandalf, and occasionally Pippin.” 

****** 

Frodo and Merry sat leaning against each other on a bench at the station waiting for their train home when they heard a familiar voice. 

“Thanks fir givin’ me a lift tae the station, and fir last night.” 

Simultaneously they opened their eyes and were treated to the sight of Pippin in a summer shirt and shorts made for someone about a foot and a half taller than him, and because there was no way that a man’s shoes would fit him, the 60s high-heeled boots that came with the Pussy Galore outfit. However, their attention was taken up more by the person Pippin was with. This man made nonsense of all the clichés as he was indeed camper than Butlins, bent as a nine bob note, gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide and queerer than a threpney bit. Except that he was so much camper, so much more bent, gayer and queerer as to render the similes meaningless. 

“Wow! He’s actually camper than Celeborn,” said Frodo metaphorically picking his lower jaw up off the floor. 

“Did you see that? How do his wrists manage to stay on?” 

“I honestly do not think I have ever met anyone that camp.” 

“Really? But you’ve known every influential writer since the novel was invented and were hanging round gay bar when they were still called molly houses.” 

“Hey, I’ve been doing it much longer than that.” 

“Oh, yeah, the symposia. But you don’t really notice it when everyone else is at it. If it wasn’t for you an Plato falling out you’d be mentioned in every major philosophical textbook standing a corner saying everyone’s your best mate and trying to pull.” 

“Look, me and Plato had issues.” 

“It’s your own fault for trying it on with Aristophanes, everyone knew he was only into women.” 

“He wrote plays, he was around men in drag every day, what was I supposed to think?” 

Pippin came and sat on the other end of the bench. Merry and Frodo looked over at him and narrowed their eyes. 

“Nice evening?” 

Pippin grinned, or more accurately, leered. “Great. How was yours?” 

“Before or after we fell in the canal?” 

“Oh. Somebody didn’t get laid last night.” Pippin whistled innocently. 

Merry decided to improvise. “Well, actually it got better after we fell in the canal. I got to punch you, the two doctors who betted on me winning the fight split their winnings with me and we met these very nice male nurses who offered to take us out for a drink when their shift finished and it didn’t exactly go downhill from there. How did you spend the rest of your evening?” 

“Well, Ah don’t remember exactly, but what ah do remember was pretty nice. An’ then this mornin’ Ah woke up in this huge flat, Ah mean really huge, an’ it was oan the 6th floor, except Ah didnae notice until Ah wis sick over the balcony. An’ then, whitisface, Ah think Ah’ve goat his name written doon oan a piece a paper from when he gave me his phone number, he gave me some a his clothes an’ a lift to the station and was very nice aboot the whole balcony thing. Well, Ah’m noat sure if he wis bein’ nice or if he hadnae actually noticed…” 

***** 

Vladivostok Airport, 2 ½ months later: 

“Are you sure this is right?” 

“The report said that someone fitting the description of a mentally unstable man from England was living in left luggage locker 47, so we’d better at least have a look.” 

“How big is this guy if he’s living in a left luggage locker?” 

“About 3 foot 10.” 

“Oh, right.” 

Merry and Pippin had productively used the time of the train journey home to settle their differences, and, after Frodo fell asleep, to, shall we say, start shagging in the toilets. 

Frodo had not been terribly amused by this prospect as when he woke up he had missed his stop and he could still hear Merry and Pippin in the toilets. In fact, he had been rather upset. So upset that he decided not to go home. It was Sam who had alerted the local police and the local police, who on the advice of every psychiatrist in a 20 mile radius, had passed the description on to Interpol. While Frodo wasn’t maliciously violent he could cause a bit of damage when people upset him as much as Merry and Pippin had. 

The policemen knocked on the door of the left luggage locker. 

“Hello, anybody home?” 

The door opened and Frodo greeted the policemen in flawless, yet more than a little dated Russian. 

“Good day to you, sirs, and a fine one it is at that.” 

The policemen exchanged looks. This was probably the one they had come for. 

“And what’s your name?” 

“Ivan Ivanovich.” 

“Yes, and my name is Catherine the Great and this is Ivan the Terrible.” 

“You jest sirs, but I am in good sport today.” 

“Ah, I see we have a little Pushkin on our hands.” 

“Pushkin? But he does not live to the east, in fact, he does not live at all for I saw him die. I did warn him not to sport with the wife of his superior, but he would not listen.” 

“He thinks he knew Pushkin?” whispered one policeman to the other. “This is definitely the one we came for.” 

“It could be worse, he could think he knew Ivan the Terrible…” 

“Don’t give him ideas.”


	4. Random Slashy Interlude: The Phantom Relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fits between chapters 22 and 23 of Bagenders. 
> 
> Note: you may want to fire up the Disbelief Suspender while reading this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

There was an argument going on about the washing, but not the usual one. 

“I’ll do the washing, Sam.” 

“No, Frodo, you’ve been working round the house all day, I’ll do the washing.” 

“No, no, I’m sure gardening’s much more strenuous. I’ll do the washing.” 

Aragorn wheeled past. “Why don’t you both do the washing?” 

Frodo and Sam looked at one another. “Urgh.” 

“What?” 

“Oh, um, nothing?” 

Aragorn looked confused, then shrugged and wheeled off. 

“Let’s be sensible. Go halvers?” 

“Yes, but don’t hog the fast spin cycle.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Why is it so cold?” 

“Because Legolas has opened all the windows.” 

Merry made a move towards the window. 

“Nooooo, don’t do that! If you try and close the window he comes and shouts about it being terribly hot!” 

Merry leapt back from the window at Frodo’s warning. The concept of Legolas shouting was a frightening one indeed. He went to look for a jumper instead. 

Frodo found the Twins. “Ummm, do you, ummmm, know what’s happening to Legolas?” 

“Eh?” 

“He’s very angry. And he says he’s hot.” 

“Oh, no.” 

“It’s like, Time.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Time? Time for what? Why are you looking so scared?” 

“This might be, like, a good time to move into the bunker.” 

“Why? What is going on?” 

“You don’t know about PMT?” 

“You’re not about to tell me that Legolas is a woman are you?” 

“No! A bit girly, but not a woman.” 

“So how can he get PMT?” 

“Pre-Millenial Tension. Elves get it about once every thousand years or so. I thought you’d know that.” 

“No, no-one ever told me. And I must not have been round elves at the wrong time before.” 

“We don’t like to talk about it. Embarrassing, you see-” 

“So, like when we got it at home Dad’d lock us in the shed till we were better. And sometimes longer-” 

“And then when he had PMT he’d lock us in the shed with Glorfindel-” 

“And Glorfindel cheats at poker.” 

“So what do we do?” 

“Emigrate.” 

“What? How bad is this?” 

“Um, like, well, like bad-” 

“Yeah, someone told us about last time-” 

“You know the St. Brice’s Day Massacre?” 

“No.” 

“When King Aethelred ordered the killing of all the Danes in England-” 

“That was what happened last time Legolas had PMT.” 

“Oh. I see. I’ll start packing.” Frodo turned to leave and then paused. “No, wait, we have to stay. If he goes on a killing spree he’ll go to prison.” 

“Hasn’t Gandalf been in prison a lot?” 

“That’s different.” 

“Yeah, like, Legolas is way too pretty for prison.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The word about Legolas’ Condition had been spread about the house. Gandalf was looking forwards to large amounts of violence and Aragorn getting hurt, not least as Aragorn still had his foot in plaster and was having difficulties running away. Everyone else was practising the ‘duck and cover’ manoeuvre. Unfortunately, the bunker in the back garden had been taken over by Frodo for food storage, because Aragorn had refused to build him a bigger larder, so they couldn’t take cover. Merry and Pippin had dug out their hard hats and had bagsied the best seats in the sideboard. 

That evening the household was watching ‘Animal Hospital’. Legolas had wrapped himself entirely round Aragorn, who was rubbing Legolas’ back in a way he desperately hoped was soothing. 

On the TV Rolf Harris put on his serious face, “-but the little chap didn’t make it.” 

Legolas burst into tears and buried his head into Aragorn’s shoulder and wailed incoherently about dead kittens. The rest of the room tensed. Aragorn hugged Legolas and went ‘there, there,” ineffectually. 

“Legolas? It was, like, in, like, pain, so it’s better like this.” 

“But why? Why do kittens have to die? They’re small and fluffy and harmless. Why couldn’t it have been the big ugly dog?” 

“Cos the big ugly dog was only in to get his teeth cleaned.” The other hobbits quickly sat on Pippin before he made any other comments that might possibly get all of them killed. 

“He doesn’t mean it, just ignore him.” 

Legolas was still looking dangerously upset, so Frodo suggested his solution to all crises. “Why don’t you make yourself a cup of tea? I’m sure that’ll make you feel better.” 

Legolas sniffed and wiped his eyes on Aragorn’s shoulder. He nodded and dragged Aragorn up to come with him. 

The kitchen door shut. As one the whole room moved towards the kitchen, close enough to hear what was going on, but far enough away to make a swift exit should the need arise. 

The first few minutes were fairly normal tea-making type noises. Then there was the crash, and a stream of enraged Sindarin. Three of the hobbits looked at the Twins for translation. 

“Legolas says he doesn’t know why he started going out with Aragorn in the first place.” There was a pause. “Legolas is going out with Aragorn?” 

“Like, since when?” 

“Shhh! Keep translating!” 

There were further crashes and shouts from the kitchen. 

“No, not until you tell us what’s been going on.” 

“And how can you shush and keep translating anyway, it’s like, not possible.” 

“You should have told us, it’s not like we would have minded-” 

“Yeah, you shouldn’t, like, label yourself...” 

“Be who you want to be, love who you want to love-” 

“And have great casual sex with everyone else.” 

“Aragorn and Legolas were just, like, meant to be together.” 

“No they weren’t.” 

There was a crash from the kitchen 

“At least he’s better for him than Arwen, though-” 

“With Arwen it was like this most of the time.” 

Frodo interrupted this, “I think Legolas just accused him of using him as a Boromir substitute.” 

“Aragorn slept with Boromir? Eeeeeeaaaaaw-” 

“That’s, like, icky-” 

“Manky, but he’d have been ok if he’d just had a bath-” 

“Yeah, his brother wasn’t bad-” 

“But Boromir, uuurgh-” 

“Really moody and hydrophobic, it was like he had rabies or something.” 

Frodo was still listening intently, “And now he’s accusing him of wanting an Arwen substitute.” 

“Why would anyone want one of those?” 

“I don’t think there was anything going on between Aragorn and Boromir. He was too busy leching on Pippin.” 

“Aragorn? Really?” 

“No, Boromir. Definitely a kinky hobbit lover.” 

“No, no, pervy hobbit fancier. Any time he tried anything on I headbutted him between the legs.” 

”I did wonder why he walked funny.” 

There was an enormous crash from the kitchen. Frodo paled. “There’s only one thing big enough in that kitchen to make that noise. My teapot! It holds fifteen cups! I need it for the WI!” 

“Dude, we’re, like not gonna ask.” 

“Yes? I’m in the Women’s Institute, so what?” 

“Anyone else and we’d say you were trying to meet women.” 

“I am meeting women.” 

The Twins paused with their mouths open. “Dude - you’re not - you’ve not - like, after six thousand years you decide to change teams?” 

“Unlike certain people in this room I want to meet people I don’t want to have sex with or buy drugs off.” 

“Hey, we’ve never shagged Dave-” 

“And we’ve never bought drugs off Dave-” 

“I wouldn’t take what he takes.” 

The crashed from the kitchen had continued while this was going on, but now there was a pause. 

“That’s Aragorn... he’s asking what it is he’s done wrong.” 

“And Legolas is saying if he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong he doesn’t know why he should even bother.” 

“Aragorn’s begging forgiveness or possibly for his life, it’s hard to tell.” 

“Legolas is saying that Aragorn is just using him for convenience-” 

“Makes him sound like a ready-meal-” 

“And only wants to be forgiven so they can have make-up sex.” 

“Now Aragorn’s gibbering a bit...” 

There were renewed crashes and screams from the kitchen. 

“He’s stopped using Sindarin... I think he’s just swearing at him in every language he knows.” 

“How many languages does he know again?” 

“At least twenty, and that’s not taking into account old forms of languages.” 

“So, I suppose he knows about six swear words for each-” 

“And then there’s the compound insults-” 

“And the ‘son of’ insults, and the comments about his paternity-” 

“References to incestuous and deviant sexual practices, calling animal names-” 

“So we could be here for ages-” 

There were more crashes from the kitchen. 

“But-” 

Another crash. 

“He’s going to run-” 

Crash. 

“Out-” 

Two crashes. 

“Of plates quite soon.” 

There was another crash. Then a resounding metallic ‘bong’. 

“Of course, you can throw a saucepan lots of times before it breaks.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Pippin felt that with all this talking about “relationships”, or rather screaming and hurling abuse about relationships, he should really do some talking of his own. He knew that some things had to be handled with tact and delicacy, lest the feelings of another were to be damaged irreparably. 

So that night he crawled into the pit of ordure he called ‘bed’, and Merry crawled into his own pit. As Pippin reached to turn off the mushroom nightlight he called across the distance. 

“Merry?” 

“What?” 

“You’re dumped.” 

“Again?” 

“This time it’s final.” 

“You always say that.” 

“Yeah, but this time I really mean it, I don’t want to go out with you.” 

“You always say that as well.” 

“No, Merry, I really mean it. I think it’s time we started seeing other people.” 

“You already see other people. You’re a two-timing little bastard.” 

“So now you’re rid of me.” 

“No, I’m not, we share a room. All this means it that you’ll pull people and bring them back here and I’ll have to sleep in the shed.” 

“You don’t have to sleep in the shed.” 

“But you said last time I couldn’t watch.” 

“Well, you can’t.” 

“So I have to lie here and listen to you have sex.” 

“You could put your fingers in your ears.” 

“The shed’s better.” 

“Well, that’s settled then.” 

Merry sighed resignedly. There was a long pause. 

“Merry?” 

“What?” 

“Fancy going out on the pull on Friday?” 

“What?” 

“Well, we’re both on the rebound, we might as well go looking for a rebound pull.” 

For some reason this logic seemed to make sense to Merry. “Ok. We after birds or blokes?” 

“We’ll toss a coin.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Aragorn, I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m really very sorry.” 

“Apology accepted, it’s fine, really.” 

“You know I’m not really in control of my actions and I don’t mean it?” 

“Yes, I understand.” 

“You do?” Legolas burst into tears again and hugged Aragorn. Aragorn winced in a manly fashion. “Sorry... does it hurt a lot?” 

“No, no, I’ll be fine.” 

There was a pause, then Legolas gasped. “Oh my goodness! I’m a wife beater! This is domestic abuse!” 

Aragorn was bright enough to let the phrase ‘wife beater’ pass without comment. “No, really, you’re not in control of your actions, it’s never happened before, and if this is domestic abuse then Arwen practised domestic genocide.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“I know you are, and we’re going to get though this - together.” 

“You pinched that line off ‘Neighbours’ didn’t you?” 

“Yes. Sorry.” 

“Aragorn - can I sleep in here tonight? I don’t like being on my own at the moment.” 

Aragorn went through his options which were; a) waking up next to a homicidal elf tomorrow morning, or b) waking up in hospital in a month’s time. 

“Yes, of course you can sleep here tonight Legolas.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The week progressed. Legolas had taken time off work with the ‘flu’, since it was felt that the combination of enraged elf and train full of commuters was not a safe one. He was spending most of his time sitting on the sofa in a pair of fluffy pyjamas and Edwardian dressing gown watching daytime television. Depending on where his mood swings had swung him he was either wrapped round Aragorn or ‘Attila’ a fluffy bunny belonging to Elrohir. 

Aragorn was suffering. Not only on the receiving end of violence, but also on the receiving end of affection. Legolas was refusing to sleep alone, instead preferring to wrap himself round Aragorn. Unfortunately, he was also giving off as much heat as a small furnace, so Aragorn was spending most of the night unable to sleep because of the heat, pinned to the bed and terrified to move. However, Aragorn had his pride, and wouldn’t sleep in his chair during the day. Gandalf did that. 

Legolas was also demanding food. Different types of food. There was a suspicion that Legolas wasn’t as out of control of his actions as he was pretending to be, and at least part of this was some sort of vengeance on the Fellowship. This suspicion had its roots in the fact that all the foods he craved were difficult to get, required at least two bus journeys to the nearest supplier and he always demanded that Merry and Pippin be sent for them. His demands were incredibly specific, for example a particular brand of tinned water chestnuts, or a bizarre variety of mango. 

While Merry and Pippin were on the magical mystery tour of all of the North’s ethnic supermarkets they planned their campaign for Friday night. 

“D’you think we can get away with heels?” 

“Maybe not heels, but definitely platforms. Need to stand out in the crowd.” 

“Need to be able to see over the bar you mean.” 

“You see, Merry, that’s why I’m more popular than you. I have a positive attitude.” 

“You think you’re popular? With who?” 

“Well, I pull more than you.” 

“Cos you have no standards.” 

“You calling me a slut?” 

“Yes, and not as a compliment.” 

There was silence as they pointedly looked out of opposite windows of the train. 

“Merry?” 

“Yes, Pip?” 

“Do you know where we are?” 

“No, and we’ve been going over the moors for ages.” 

“We’re on the wrong train, aren’t we?” 

“Yep.” 

“And we’re the only people on the train, so we can’t ask anyone.” 

“Yeah. And since it’s about ten now...” 

“There won’t be any trains home will there. We’re going to spend the night on a platform and we won’t even know where.” 

“Well, there’ll be a sign on the station.” 

When they were hurled off the train at its terminating stop they did indeed find a sign. And a bench. This was about it. There was no discernible settlement around the station, and it had the kind of name that could mean it was anywhere from Devon to Northumbria. The timetable had long peeled off the board, and the door with the lovely Victorian sign saying ‘Waiting Room’ was firmly locked. 

“Merry?” 

“Yes?” 

“I’m hungry.” 

“Well, use your penknife and get that tin of water chestnuts open then.” 

They ate in silence. 

“You know, it’s going to get very cold.” 

There was no response from Pippin. 

“We have to share body heat.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Or we’ll get hypothermia.” 

“I am not falling for the ‘share body heat’ line. You sound like Boromir.” 

“Ok, ok. But remember Caradhras? Surely being molested by Boromir was a small price to pay for keeping warm.” 

Pippin looked thoughtful for a moment. 

“We haven’t really formalised breaking up.” 

“No.” 

“Maybe we should, you know...” 

“Yes?” 

“Say goodbye properly? Share body heat?” 

“Glad we agree, Pip.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Morning broke. Sam awoke in the shed, in his comfortable hammock. He’d decided that life in the Fellowship needed an escape, and as such there was the Shed Extension, only accessible via a hidden panel in the shed. The reason for his refuge on this particular morning was Frodo, who last he saw had been getting very well Aquainted with one of the Twins. 

He ambled back to the house, steeling himself for whatever Legolas was going to be throwing this morning. However, he found Legolas and Aragorn curled up asleep on the staircase, the whole house padding round them as quietly as possible. Even Gandalf had muted the television, a testament to Legolas’ current fear inducing state. 

As he came into the kitchen he found himself grabbed and pulled into the larder. 

“You’ve got to help me Sam.” 

“Frodo? What? Why?” 

“You, um, know last night?” 

“Yes, yes, I remember sleeping in the shed.” 

Frodo was blushing and looking at the floor. “Umm... I don’t know which one.” 

“We’ve only got one shed.” 

“No, no, I don’t know which twin I was, um, With last night.” 

“Oh. But surely you woke up next to them this morning?” 

“No, they’d gone when I woke up.” 

“Any, um, distinguishing features?” 

“Tall, dark, pointy eared... no.” 

“Not even anything... intimate?” 

“No. And even if there was, how would I find out without trying to seduce both of them?” 

“Sorry.” 

There was silence as both the hobbits tried to think of ways of telling the twins apart and failed miserably. This was interrupted by the door being opened. 

“Little dudes! Oh, sorry, like, you should have said, I’d never have, like, with you if you, like, had like, said that you two were, like, like...” He tailed off as he became more embarrassed. “Like, bye?” 

The door was shut. 

“I think we can conclusively say that you shagged that twin.” 

“Yes, but which one was he?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Later than afternoon Merry and Pippin arrived home. 

“We’ve been tae Glasgow.” announced Pippin proudly. 

“We sent you to Manchester for water chestnuts. Yesterday.” 

“I was unaware trains to Manchester were now going via Glasgow.” 

“We got a bit lost.” 

“We got on the wrong train. Twice.” 

“Look, we had to spend the night on a station in the middle of nowhere, and when we woke up in the morning we got the first train. It just happened to have been going in entirely the wrong direction.” 

“And, um, because we were really hungry we had to eat your water chestnuts.” 

Everyone looked at Legolas, and tensed to run. Well, except for Aragorn, who tried to get in the best position to take a punch. 

“Uuuuuuuuurgh, please don’t talk to me about water chestnuts.” 

Everyone relaxed. 

“However, since we were in Glasgow, and it’s a long way away, we though we’d buy you some things on the off chance you might want them.” 

“Such as?” 

“Edinburgh rock?” 

“When I want to eat sugar laced chalk, I’ll be sure to tell you.” 

“Tablet?” 

Legolas seemed interested, so they threw the bar over. 

“Oatcakes?” 

There was an approving noise from Legolas, who was half way through the tablet. 

“Square sausage?” 

Legolas swallowed. “What is that exactly?” 

“It’s like a sausage. But square. And with less meat.” 

“How could you even think of trying to give me meat at a time like this! The poor animals...” 

Legolas snivelled over Aragorn, while Aragorn gave a death stare to Merry and Pippin. The two hobbits decided not to mention the haggis. 

“Then we went round these posh food shops and asked them what they’d recommend for a toff wi’ PMT. So we got lots of chocolate, and cakes and...” 

“Give. Now.” The cake was duly handed over. 

“And while we were in the posh shops we got some tapas garlic too, cos that looked interesting.” 

“But there’s not much left because we ate most of it on the train.” 

“You ate almost-raw garlic on a sealed train?” 

“Yeah.” 

“With other passengers?” 

“Yeah, well, we had a carriage to ourselves after Carlisle. So we weren’t bothering anyone.” 

“Really.” 

“And then we went to some of the places we like to eat in Glasgow and got you some deep fried stovies...” 

“They have meat in them.” Aragorn tried to stop the hobbits before Legolas started wailing again. Fortunately a chocolate orange cake was currently holding his attention. 

“Oh, so that’s what the stringy bits are. I never knew that. Anyway, we got you a macaroni pie as well.” 

“You think that I would like to eat macaroni cheese in a pie. You think that elven tastebuds could even tolerate the concept of a pasta pie.” 

“Well if you don’t want it I’ll have it.” 

“Oh, yeah and we got you some deep fried sweeties, a Mars bar, a Twix...” 

“OUT! GET OUT! You’re not eating that in MY HOUSE!” 

Merry and Pippin ran out into the back garden. Legolas appeared at the door. “And you can stay out there until there is no trace of any of it left! Understand?” 

Merry and Pippin nodded furiously. Then the door was slammed and there was the sound of the bolts being shot. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Saturday morning arrived. Merry woke up with a face full of curly dark hair, through which the point of an ear was visible. He snuggled in a bit. Then he remembered that Pippin had dumped him again, and they’d been out on the pull last night. So his current situation could only be because they’d got so pissed they couldn’t recognise each other anymore and had pulled each other. It was always embarrassing when that happened. 

The best thing to do was probably to sneak out of bed before Pippin woke up and pretend that they’d both failed to pull anyone. He rolled over. And realised that he wasn’t at home. 

He was in bed with Pippin, and he wasn’t in either his bed or Pippin’s bed. You could see light, and there wasn’t the smell of a hundred deceased socks. Where the hell was he then? 

Merry sat up, and his hangover hit. So he decided to lie back down again very slowly. After lying very still for a while he sat up again, slowly. And then wished he hadn’t. He had sworn to himself that he would resist any of Pippin’s ‘inventive’ ideas, after the whole ‘Princess Leia’ incident. Well, those inventive ideas that didn’t in some way involve food. But here he was, in bed with Pippin, and Someone Else. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Where were you two last night?” 

“Ummmmm... aaaaaahhhhhh...” 

“We know what you were doing, we don’t need the sound effects. Where were you?” 

“Out.” 

“Yep, out.” 

Frodo looked at Merry and Pippin. While normally he really didn’t want to know where they’d been, they seemed to be acting very suspiciously, and it was always best to have a good excuse before the police turned up. 

“Where were you out?” 

“On the pull. We pulled. Then I went back to someone’s house. AndIdon’tknowwhatPippindid.” 

“Why would you know what Pippin did?” 

“No reason. And I don’t.” 

“You don’t.” 

“No.” 

“Which is why the two of you have just arrived home together.” 

“We were, um, on the same bus.” 

“Of course. Because the buses are so infrequent there’s only one every ten minutes.” 

“Coincidence.” 

Frodo sighed. “Just out of interest, are you trying to lie to me or to each other?” 

“Us? Lie?” 

“Yes. Frequently.” 

“We’re telling the truth! We didn’t end up in bed together -ohshit.” 

“But you broke up.” 

“Well there was someone else in the bed too-” 

Frodo burst out laughing and ran off to spread the news. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Aragorn. Please accept my most sincere, heartfelt apologies for my behaviour recently. I’m feeling much better.” 

“Um, good?” 

“Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you too badly did I?” 

“No, no, I’m sure it won’t even scar.” 

“I bought you chocolate. And a new knife. And this month’s ‘Forestry Monthly’.” 

“Thank you?” 

“This won’t happen for another thousand years.” 

“That’s good. That’s definitely good.” 

“So does that mean you’re going to be there in a thousand years time?” 

This caught Aragorn completely unprepared. “Are you talking about... commitment?” 

“Yes.” 

“Um, probably? A lot can happen in a thousand years.” 

“Like you finding someone else.” 

“No! No. I am committed to this. Really. Lots. I was brought up by elves remember? Sex being marriage and all that?” 

“But what about Arwen? You had sex with Arwen.” 

“Not very much.” 

“So this is what it’s all about to you then?” 

“Will you stop doing that! Every time I try and say something nice you make it into an Arwen comparison! What is you problem?” 

“My problem is that I’m second choice! You could have avoided Arwen! I was throwing myself at you from virtually the moment I met you! But nooooooooo, someone gives you a tacky necklace and makes you sign a legally binding contract and you fall at her feet.” 

“Really? Sorry. I always assumed you were doing the ethereally asexual thing.” 

“No, I was doing the ethereally sexually frustrated thing. You never noticed the hair?” 

“Your hair? It’s quite nice hair...” 

“No, the special braids? The ones that mean ‘take me take me big boy’?” 

“They do? Is that why Haldir followed you round Lothlorien?” 

“Yes. And you never bloody noticed!” 

“Must not be a Rivendell thing.” 

“The Twins still wear their hair like that.” 

“Oh. Ooops.” 

There was an awkward silence. 

“Can we assume that spending that long with Arwen was punishment enough?” 

“I think so. It makes being single for several thousand years less depressing.” 

“So I’m forgiven?” 

“Probably.” 

There was another pause. 

“Glad that’s all sorted out.” 

Legolas stood up. Then grabbed Aragorn, threw him over one shoulder and headed for the bedroom. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


End file.
